


cendrillon

by chanshine



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempt at Humor, Ballroom Dancing, Based on a Vocaloid Song, Blood and Injury, Cinderella Elements, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Humor, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Mentioned WayV Ensemble, Mild Blood, Song: Cendrillon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27402073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanshine/pseuds/chanshine
Summary: tonight, he would be cinderella. everything would be the same: from the golden blonde hair, to the sleek black choker, to the gorgeous blue dress, to the infamous glass slippers.the only thing different was the knife strapped to his thigh, waiting to be plunged into his prince's heart.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 13
Kudos: 79





	cendrillon

**Author's Note:**

> also known as: vocaloid cendrillon but with yuwin.

the cramped wooden carriage rocks violently as its horses pass over small pebbles on the old road, the wind hitting sicheng’s face like chillingly sharp shards of ice cold reality. nervous fingers scrunch up the voluminous embroidered satin of the ball gown that would become rags by the first hints of daylight, the outline of the knife strapped to his thigh feeling more prominent than it should be. through the cleanly cut bangs of his blonde wig, he tentatively sneaks a glance at the coachman.

the man was unidentifiable, with the mask painted the midnight black of the shadows that had grasped at him and the tip of its nose as pointed as the blade that was pressed against his neck that night. he had been walking home after a day of long work hours and minimal pay, a tired smile barely holding his exhausted frame together with the promise of a better future. along the way he had been jumped, cries muffled and hands bound behind his back. the silence in the tense air of the vehicle is as deafening as the dread that befell upon him when he heard his attackers speak for the first time.

_“take the prince’s life.”_ they had said, the cold metal burning a line of red on his skin. a warning. _“or we will take yours.”_

he couldn’t refuse. he had a family of six to come back to, a family that was probably worried sick right now. kun would be preparing tomorrow’s breakfast already, always the workaholic when stressed. ten would be right next to him with fingers curling around kun’s hand gripping the knife too tightly, muttering reassurances despite being equally if not more worried. yukhei would be out still, working twice the amount to compensate for sicheng’s absence. dejun would be scrambling to take care of kunhang and yangyang while the others were preoccupied, despite being not too far off in age. kunhang would be reading through yangyang’s lessons, attempting to help him as much as he could even with his own multitude of studies. yangyang would be uncharacteristically quiet, positivity sucked out of him as the worst outcomes flit about in his imaginative mind. they were struggling enough already, he couldn’t possibly burden them more with his disappearance.

so with his racing heartbeat, he agreed to end another’s own.

that’s how he ended up here, stepping into the grand ballroom of the palace by passing under one of the many engraved arches lining every entrance to ventilate the spacious room. hints of gold drape the cream walls elegantly, painting intricate floral patterns that reach out to the heavens. golden flowers grasp at the image of the sun immortalized in the middle of the domed ceiling, from its core emerges the canopy of a massive silver chandelier. its bodice reflects the glow of the lit candles in its drip pans, the chains dangling precariously over the crowd of extravagantly dressed nobles. lace trimmed velvet brushed over the solid hardwood floor as bachelors led maidens in a waltz.

the lavish set-up made the slightest hint of envy stir at the bottom of his empty stomach. the rich drink in their superficial wealth while the peasants drown in poverty, dancing daintily in their posh dresses while the working force dances with death. the funds that went into this extravagant spectacle could easily sustain a family for a lifetime. it’s not like anything could be done about it though, the world ran on money and greed had them in shackles the same way sicheng was forced to go along with this bloody endeavour. while he was scanning the blatant display of leisure in both awe and distaste alike, his eyes land on the famous prince.

he’s seen him before from afar, a glimpse of royalty amidst a crowd of alert guards when they walked through the streets of the city. sicheng was just one of the many curious onlookers, hungry for a face to put to the mysterious name. when he was just a few paces away, prince nakamoto yuta was just as stunning as the rumours suggested. platinum blonde locks parted from the middle falling perfectly over sharp eyes, framing strong cheekbones and a chiselled jawline. his collarbone peeks out ever so slightly under the black collar of his red coatee, various medals twinkling in the candlelight. his smile, however, still shines brighter than the constellation on his chest despite being directed at someone else.

the melody of the soft piano is easily drowned out by the sound of sicheng’s heartbeat ringing in his ears when yuta glances over to catch him staring. nothing about the embarrassed flush on his cheeks would stop the prince from approaching him, and soon he finds himself face to face with the most beautiful view he’s ever seen.

“what’s a fair lady like you doing on her lonesome?” up close he was even more charming, tone gentle and voice warm and inviting.

“what’s a prince like you doing approaching strangers on his own?” he really needed to learn how to hold his tongue. thankfully yuta finds it humorous, his laugh more pleasant to the ears than it should be.

“are you worried for me?” without much choice, he nods to accept the lie presented to him on a silver platter. “don’t be. i’m safe here, in my own home.” there’s an unidentifiable glint in his eye that makes sicheng uncomfortable enough to avoid his piercing gaze.

“if you insist.” he breathes out, leaving it at that. “why would you approach me out of all people?”

an almost catlike smile curls his lips upward. “for your hand in dance. what else?” wordlessly, sicheng takes the hand extended towards him before he realizes he’s about to be swept into a dance he’s unfamiliar with.

“wait, i don’t know how to…” the complaint dies in throat as yuta intertwines their fingers, squeezing reassuringly.

“just follow my lead, it’s alright.” yuta puts his other hand on sicheng’s waist, and in turn he places his own on the prince’s shoulder. he chases his strides, recognizing the movement as box steps. he almost sighs in relief when he realizes they’re just doing a beginner routine, he’s definitely been able to pick this up courtesy of ten spying on social dances and taking note of every little detail.

glass heels click against the floor rhythmically, reminding him of the ticking clock inching near his deadline.

“for someone who says they don’t know how to dance, you seem to be doing just fine.” there’s a certain sincerity laced in yuta’s words that makes sicheng relax. he didn’t even realize they switched to basic steps, circling the room in their own little bubble.

“i practiced a little at home.” images flash by his mind and he smiles, so soft and wistful it feels intrusive to witness.

“with who?” a small twirl comes effortlessly, naturally as if they’d been dancing together for ages.

“my brothers.” memories of kun watching their antics with a fond smile and a shake of the head in faux exasperation. of ten being uncharacteristically strict when teaching him the basics, passion for his craft seeping through in his micromanaging. of yukhei going along with their silliness, beaming as he picks ten up by the waist and urges him to let loose a little. of dejun being dragged along, complaining all the while despite the grin on his face as bright as ever. of kunhang’s smile remaining as caring as ever as he leads in routines, ever so patient even when he trips all over the place and steps on their feet. of yangyang pulling him by the arm and laughing rambunctiously as he tugs him along for an impromptu dance session. “why?”

“so i’m your first dance with someone courting you?” sicheng nods curtly, deciding the second half of that sentence doesn’t exist lest he dwell on it too much that prying thoughts plague his brain. “i don’t mind. and as long as you don’t, i’d like to be your first in everything else too.”

“aren’t you quite the sweet talker? how many other girls have you practiced on?” snarky as it may be, he can’t help but bite at the cake of lies and flattery.

“you’re my first for that too.” the subsequent bashful smile has sicheng guilty.

“oh.” he breathes out, suddenly awkward. his line of vision falls to the floor as he purses his lips in contempt, not for the prince but for himself. at least the moment is lost in their twists and turns, discomfort to the wind as they let themselves move free.

sicheng finds himself forgetting where they are as they glide across the dance floor, the world around them melting into nothingness. it’s like he isn’t somewhere he isn’t supposed to be, like he isn’t pretending to be someone he’s not, like he isn’t dancing with someone he wouldn’t normally be allowed to touch, like they aren’t from two different worlds. maybe if they weren’t on opposite ends of the spectrum, things could work out. or maybe it didn’t matter who they were, where they were. maybe it could work out just fine even with things remaining the way they are.

the sheathed knife digging into the skin of his thigh serves as a scalding reminder of what he’s really here for. he jumps from the wishful thoughts like they’re the hot stove to his childish naivety.

“what should i call you?” yuta lets go of his waist and extends his body outward like a bird spreading its wings, sicheng mirrors the movement while never letting go of their held hands.

“why would you need to know?” sicheng circles inward, wrapping yuta’s arm around his torso. his own arms cross over his chest, his back pressed flush against the sea of medallions.

“i’d like a name to the face of my dreams.” yuta’s grip tightens as he lowers him into a dip, dangling him precariously over the ground. somehow what knocks the air out of his lungs isn’t the sudden stunt, rather it’s the way their faces are far too close.

“winwin.” sicheng mutters breathlessly. yuta’s breath is almost tangible on his lips, the proximity just short of unbearably tempting. noses almost touching, he wonders if yuta can feel the heat emanating from the furnace that was his cheeks. sicheng could count his eyelashes, but he instead finds himself thinking about how they would feel as butterfly kisses fluttering against his skin the same way butterflies flutter in his stomach. yuta’s eyes are locked on his, an ocean of complexity that sicheng feels himself drown in. overwhelmed, he pries his eyes away to the side only to get a chill running up his spine.

the mask, its sharp black in stark contrast to the mellow cream environment. it was gone as soon as it came into his field of vision, but was unmistakably there. their little bubble pops and suddenly he’s far too self-conscious, hyperaware of the eyes on him and yuta and letting his imagination fill in the blanks. he wonders which ones seek gossip and which ones wait for him to do the deed, or whether they want tea or blood to be spilled through the cracks of the floorboards tonight. his hold slackens and he has to be pulled up to regain his balance, still reeling from shock. 

“are you alright?” yuta had long since let go of most of him to give him badly needed space, but his thumb traces nonsensical patterns onto the hand he’s still holding onto.

“just dizzy.” it’s not even a lie, he really does feel nauseous after that whole ordeal.

“perhaps you’d like some fresh air? i can take you to the gardens if you’d like.” yuta seems so comforting, so inviting. how ironic that such a strong symbol of nobility would be what a peasant like him would seek in an overwhelmingly regal setting.

“please.” it’s silent, almost begging. thankfully yuta doesn’t pry and instead guides him out of the ballroom that suddenly felt far too cramped despite how big it was. he misses the way the prince looks behind their backs as they step into the vast gardens.

clematis twines around the ornate cast iron fencing, encasing the land with a border of purple. azalea shrubs dot the greenery with pinks and whites, while multicolour cleome surrounds towering castor bean plants. carefully planted evergreen creates a forest amidst the sea of burgundy dahlias and sunset cannas lining the cobblestone path leading to a small gazebo. as sicheng steps up the stairs to the main deck, he presses his free palm against the cloth on his thigh to slide the strap down and eventually drop the knife on the ground. at the same time, he slips one foot out of a glass shoe and lets it topple over with an audible clink.

“what’s wrong?” the prince is about to step forward and investigate but sicheng waves him off gently.

“ah, it’s just my shoe.” he reaches down to situate it upright before grabbing the knife in one swift motion and hiding it behind his back as he stands straight.

“it’s made of glass too?” yuta watches as he makes a show of slowly lifting his gown a little to wear the unorthodox piece of footwear again. “that’s rather reminiscent of cinderella, especially with how you almost left that behind.” for some reason, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. sicheng decides to gloss over that.

“i suppose so.” he laughs the nerves off before the weapon unwittingly slips out of his trembling hands. pushing past yuta and backing himself into one of the railings, he hums as he looks up at what he can see of the night sky. its calming, the cool breeze and twinkling constellations soothing his being until his knuckles aren’t white from gripping at the wooden beam tightly. after a night of grandiose, he just wanted something familiar. he just wanted something to ground him, like the zephyr of the countryside and the patterns in the stars he fell asleep to and yuta’s hand on his.

“how are you feeling now?” sicheng doesn’t know how long he’s been there, spacing out while yuta stood in front of him.

“better. thank you.” it’s sincere. he really does feel more at ease, like he could organize his thoughts better. the silence should be comfortable, but all he can think of is how he’s going to do this. it should be perfect, it was so easy. all it took was a slip of the hand, a piece of metal plunged into the body. they’re out here far away from possible eyewitnesses and eavesdropping ears and yet… he can’t bring himself to do it. he can’t bring himself to take away the life in yuta’s kind eyes when they look at him with such concern. “it’s getting quite late isn’t it?”

“that it is. i didn’t even notice.” the prince glances up the clock tower, surprised to see it nearer to midnight than ever.

“time flies when you’re enjoying yourself.” and sicheng was. he never wanted the night to end. he never wanted the rising sun to paint the skies orange, never wanted flowing blood to paint the grass red. he never wanted this moment to be lost to time, never wanted the words that flowed from their mouths to be just another few droplets in a river of memories.

the more they talk about everything and nothing, the more sicheng learns about the man behind the prince. yuta didn’t just around in tea parties amongst the upper class, posing for portraits and getting spoon-fed the grandest meals. he likes reading, likes playing sports, liked strolling the moonlit beach and basking in the calm ambience. he prefers to draw rather than be drawn, prefers commoner food over gourmet cuisine. yuta isn’t some stuck up, snotty prick; instead he’s wise, witty and has a great sense of humour. yuta wasn’t just some power-hungry, greed-driven ruler; even with the restrictions of monarchy, he tried to keep citizens’ best interests in mind. yuta wasn’t like the nobles that let the kingdom bleed dry, instead letting his own heart bleed and pour out compassion for the people.

he’s truly admirable, so why was someone out to kill him?

“you know...” yuta’s words cut through his thoughts like butter, the atmosphere suddenly less light-hearted. “i wasn’t lying when i said i wanted to be your first in everything.” it’s a ripple in a lake of serenity. something stirs deep inside of them, like the beginnings of a storm.

“oh.” for the second time that evening, sicheng is left dumbfounded. yuta has to take the initiative, has to close in tentatively with senses on alert for any sign of recoil. it’s risky, but what’s life without a little recklessness?

“only if you’d let me.” sicheng doesn’t move away, doesn’t squirm out of being trapped with two arms on either side of him. he doesn’t find himself wanting to, not even when yuta reaches out to cup his face and guide him into eye contact. sicheng takes the opportunity to let one hand grasp at his shoulder, the other snaking around his back in an inconspicuous flash of metal. in response, an arm wraps around his waist and pulls him even closer; the weapon he has poised behind yuta’s back may be dangerous, but somehow the smirk on the prince’s lips still feels more lethal. he has to look away. “will you?”

“it depends.” they toe the line, never letting there be a dull moment with snippy banter.

“on what?”

“if you’d prove yourself worth it.” sicheng may be the sword cutting down the line of succession, but yuta was like the poison of alcohol in the champagne the bourgeoisie downed like water. addictive, fogging, impulsive. it seeps into the deepest parts of his being, permeating through the roots of unknown desires. it makes him act in ways he didn’t know he wanted to.

“such a sharp tongue. would you care to use it on me in other ways too?” yuta’s fingers trail down the side of his face, lifting his chin so they were eye to eye once again. teasingly, tauntingly he leaves a streak of lavender on the scarlet already painting sicheng’s cheekbones.

“i wouldn’t mind.”

“really now?” a shuddering breath, a hesitant _yes_.

“as long as you aren’t toying with me.”

“i would never.” the tension charging the air dissipates into something softer, coyness making way for vulnerability. yuta’s so earnest, his candour effortlessly opening sicheng’s heart to him. not much more is needed when his words speak for themselves. “it might be hasty, but i really do want a chance with you.”

“so do i.” _why doesn’t it feel like a lie?_ it’s far too honest, far too veracious for his liking when he’s about to stab him in the back literally. sicheng raises the blade over the prince’s nape, pointed edge just a few inches away from changing history as they knew it. the hand gripping yuta’s shoulder moves to hold his neck, and it would be so easy to just squeeze a tad too tight and cut off his airflow; it would be so easy to snuff out the flame of life, to get blood on his hands and the pristine white of the gazebo. strangely enough, even with his fingers ghosting over another’s windpipe, he feels like he’s the one suffocating; he feels like he’s the one choking when he sees him reach out to cup his cheek.

yuta is wiping away the tears he didn’t realize were rolling down his cheeks. like a vase teetering on the edge of a table after a gentle nudge, his resolve shatters and he crumbles; crashing into yuta, he holds on like a lifeline. he’s so scared. he’s so terrified and it all just dawned on him right now. he has zero experience, no training in social etiquette or murder whatsoever. he’s just a countryman who was put in a dress and handed a knife and expected to succeed. 

“it’s okay. i know, i know.” he didn’t even know it was possible, but yuta manages to hold him even closer. choking out sobs, sicheng buries his face into the crook of his neck and lets himself be soothed by the way the prince lowly hums a familiar lullaby. hot breath tickles his ear when a whisper graces it. “i know you were trying to assassinate me.”

he just got found out but why does he feel so relieved? why does he feel so comfortable in the arms of the man that could throw him to the wolves at any moment?

“if you knew, then why didn’t you just avoid me or leave?”

“they’re watching, aren’t they?” yuta’s gaze finds something in the far distance, and sicheng is too terrified to look back. too terrified of seeing his nightmares roam free, breathing and living just a couple meters away. “the ones who forced you to do this.”

“how did you know?”

“we had been anticipating an attempt from the vassals unsatisfied with recent changes to the feudal system. what we didn’t expect however, was it to come in form of a commoner fumbling around a dress and speaking terribly bluntly.” sicheng had little to no idea what yuta just uttered, but the second half sounded vaguely insulting. “well, i certainly wasn’t expecting such an endearing sight.” nevermind, he was just having main character syndrome.

“so what are you going to do with me now?” he’s probably asking too much, but he can’t help it when he has a million new questions with every answer given.

“normally, you’d be arrested and possibly executed…” if yuta notices sicheng audibly gulp at that, he doesn’t point it out. he carries on, the playful lilt in his voice never dying down. “… but the circumstances are as special as you, after all.”

“i don’t think we should be flirting when we still have no idea what to do.” he’s flattered and all, but the racing of his heartbeat feels more induced by fear than love.

“i have a plan, don’t worry.” the prince pulls away, grazing against the pointed tip of the weapon behind his back. the warning dies in sicheng’s throat when yuta flashes him a blinding smile, uncomfortably so. he’s frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. it feels like something’s about to go horribly wrong, with the way the prince shifts and squirms around until it seems like he finally found what he was searching for.

when yuta said he had a plan, that plan should not have entailed impaling himself on the knife.

sicheng feels it, feels the blade rip through expensive fabric and sink into soft flesh. he feels yuta stumble forward, going limp in his arms. he feels himself crumble to the floor in shock, taking the prince down with him. horrified, he rips the knife out quickly and flinches at the droplets of red splattering everywhere. tears stream down his cheeks the same way crimson does from the wound. he pushes yuta’s weight off him and gently settles him to lie on the floor, as if the peaceful look on his face would do anything to calm sicheng’s frantic antics.

_oh, cinderella, cinderella. no longer of cinders but instead spilled royal blood._

too late, sicheng realizes he never really was meant to win anyway. he was only told to kill the prince so his life would be spared, he wasn’t promised assistance beyond the disguise, the weapon and transportation. he didn’t know where his assailants were, but he doubts they stuck around and waited for him. liquid evidence dripped down the hilt to stain his hands and the satin of his dress, but no one was there to wipe it up. so they really just left him to die either way, huh? except in this route, he was made to take someone innocent with him. god, he really shouldn’t have dragged yuta along with him. he didn’t deserve a fate like this, dying to save a traitor who wouldn’t be able to make his escape.

“winwin, are they gone?”

“whAT THE FUCK─” sicheng shrieks, falling backwards as yuta sits back up with a smirk on his face like nothing happened. like he didn’t just fucking… die. like he didn’t just make sicheng cry and plead and mourn and panic. like he didn't just give him the biggest scare of his life.

“look at my wound.” his eyes follow yuta’s hand and sure enough, they grip at a shoulder with a shallow wound. in hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions and should probably have kept calm under pressure and checked properly but he doesn’t really find himself caring for the technicalities when yuta’s here, right now, alive and breathing. “were you worried?”

“of course i was, you fucking… it was so sudden and i… i wasn’t…” his hands are shaking again, the remnants of blood on them not exactly helping with the images flashing in his mind.

“i’m sorry for scaring you, love.” yuta pulls him close, to remind him that he’s there. that he’s fine. that he isn’t really gone. it’s a wonderful feeling, the crashing relief after insurmountable dread. “it’s not stupid, don’t worry. i’m glad you care about me.”

“you’re so mean. i literally hate you.” it really isn’t convincing when he clings like his life depends on it, when he’s leaning into the hug like it’s the crackling fireplace on a cold winter night.

“ah, but now they’re gone, aren’t they? i’m sure they only waited to see if you’d actually do it.” he looks around and sure enough, yuta is correct once again. even his darkest hallucinations don’t find a way to twist the distant darkness into the midnight pointed masks that plague the corners of his mind.

“that’s true but… they’ll just get away scot-free and you─” sicheng is silenced by the finger on his lips and the wink sent his way.

“guards have been ordered to be on alert ever since i stepped out the ballroom. they should be all over the perimeter by now. no one could leave without running into at least two of them. ”

“wow… so you really expected this, huh?” he lets the rhetorical question hang in the air, choosing to melt into the affection and bask in yuta’s presence. he just needs a few more minutes like thisnto make sure everything was very much real, even the fact that he has the previously untouchable prince of the land holding him in his arms.

“by the way, i sure hope you weren’t kidding when you said all that earlier,” yuta mutters, softly. “because i wasn’t.”

“oh.” third time’s supposedly the charm, but sicheng still finds himself rendered speechless. he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to nakamoto yuta and his frankness. he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to the way he closes in, hair falling over his piercing eyes that lock on his through pretty lashes. he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to the way dainty fingers trace his jawline when his chin is lifted to put their lips a breath’s width apart.

“may i…?” yuta breathes out, soft and tentative. hesitant in exploring the boundaries, barely concealed desire beneath the surface of caution. he’s so patient, so careful with sicheng despite how much he clearly wanted him too. who was he to say no?

sicheng answers by closing the distance himself, eyelids fluttering shut at the first hint of contact. the kiss is sweet, soft and everything he could ever wish for. a small noise rises in his throat when yuta slowly licks his lip, asking for entry. he says yes to that too, opens his mouth and meets the wet muscle with his own; their tongues lazily tangling with one another in a passionate dance like they never left the ballroom, just waited for the formal dances to be done with. they eventually have to break apart for air, both of them panting a little.

“winwin.” it comes out breathy and desperate, and sicheng wants to hear more. except he wants to hear his real name slip past those lips the same way his tongue did just a few heartbeats ago.

“sicheng. that’s my actual name.” he smiles against spit slicked lips, planting a quick peck before pulling away. this was far too much for his fragile heart, but it’s easy not to be too embarrassed when yuta looks about as dazed and wrecked as he feels. messy hair, swollen lips and flushed cheeks was such a good luck on him.

“well sicheng, you may be a shitty assassin but the way you got the knife out was clever. i’ll give you that.”

“maybe i should train a little more so i can work under you.”

“don’t be ridiculous. the future king shouldn’t have to dirty his hands with the job of subordinates.”

oh. that was smooth. that was also very cheesy. he’s been really emotional lately, huh? it was such a new side of him, he’s never really felt or acted like this in his entire like. maybe it was because of the one sitting in front of him right now. maybe it was because of him and his stupidly boundless charisma. sicheng has grown far too soft, far too weak to such simple gestures of love yet when yuta smiles up at him shyly with one hand coming up to cup his cheek and pull him in for another kiss, he finds that he doesn’t really mind any of those too much.

everything would definitely be a lot more different from now on.

_“so you disappeared for two days and now you’re dating the man you were forced to try killing?”_

_“well…”_

_“and that just so happens to be THE prince nakamoto yuta?”_

_“that’s what he said, yes. this is, like, the tenth time he’s repeated himself.”_

_“dejun, this is not the time_ _─”_

_“HOLD ON, YOU TRIED TO KILL THE PRINCE!?”_

_“I THOUGHT WE WERE ALREADY ON THE SAME PAGE ON THAT!”_

_“CLEARLY I WASN’T LISTENING, I WAS TOO BUSY STARING OFF INTO THE DISTANCE FOR NO REASON!”_

_“i did not teach you such blatant disrespect_ _─”_

_“NO BUT WHAT THE FUCK!? THAT’S SO COOL! HOW DOES IT FEEL SNEAKING AROUND LIKE A SPY GOING STABBY STABBY? SICHENG-GE TELL ME EVERYTHINGGGG!”_

_“i wasn’t going around just randomly murdering people, you know that, right?”_

_“LIU YANGYANG, LANGUAGE!”_

_“ENGLISH, BUT I CAN TRANSLATE THAT TO GERMAN TOO IF YOU WANT!”_

_“why you little_ _─”_

_“everyone… can we let sicheng-ge explain first?”_

_“thank you, kunhang. truly you are a blessing among curses. as i was saying_ _─”_

_“WAIT, I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU IN THAT GOWN YET!”_

_“TEN-GE, PRIORITIES!”_

_“WHAT DO YOU MEAN? THIS IS OBVIOUSLY TOP PRIORITY!”_

well… maybe certain little things would always remain the same.

**Author's Note:**

> i was planning to finish my xiaohenyang fic and my henyang ones but then... wayv princesses... and then cendrillon popped up on shuffle... and i got... sidetracked hehehe i still cant believe i manifested yangriel,,, anyway!! i hope you enjoyed this :DD i certainly had a lot of fun with their back and forth during dialogue, and happy endings in my fics are always fun to see especially when theyre so rare  
>    
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/SH10NSHINE)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/SH10NSHINE)


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